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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29123046">Maybe we’re the better men</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpie4shinies/pseuds/a_shiny_mess'>a_shiny_mess (magpie4shinies)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Jangobi Week 2021 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Jangobi Week, Jangobi Week 2021, M/M, Mostly Gen, No Beta We Die Like Maul, Qui-Gon is Sir Mentioned Once, but yeah I mean there's clearly a transition over the story, so if this part gets another chapter it will be for smooshing booties, some violence, that is to say repeatedly returning to life to edit mistakes as I find them</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:33:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,538</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29123046</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpie4shinies/pseuds/a_shiny_mess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Jango Fett encountered Obi-Wan Kenobi and neither of them died.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jango Fett &amp; Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Jangobi Week 2021 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139039</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>225</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Jangobi Week</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the Jangobi Week day 1 prompt: Enemies to lovers.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The trail led Jango to a building that was more hovel than house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hadn’t ever been grand from the size, but it seemed like it could’ve been cozy before the bombardment. The transparisteel in the wide viewportals that had previously let in an abundance of natural light were now destroyed and allowed in ash and embers from the last barrage. The light that also filtered through the film of war was weak and gray. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The damage must have been done early yesterday in one of the first waves: the plush area covering on the floor was a rich deep blue woven with a floral pattern to match the Yllvainin blossoms the province was famous for, but it was only visible in a patchy stripe along the inside wall. The rest was dulled by fallen ash and dust, and blood, if Jango was any judge, though there was no sign of the bodies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just past the floor covering was a bare strip of flooring that appeared to be made of the local flora, and just passed that was the portal to the next room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing in the portal was a boy.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Standing in the portal was a Jedi.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy’s hair was roughly cut, unflattering and distracting combined with the bruise smudging the fine edge his cheekbone cut and the blood smeared on the other cheek. It was a telling cut when paired with the beige and cream rags that had once been robes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something -- a memory from another time -- flared in his mind as he registered the short braid trailing from behind one ear, the tense grip the kid had on his blaster. In the wide universe, there was always a chance that someone who looked like a child was twice or thrice your age, but that braid combined with the look of an animal cornered told Jango he had truly found a baby Jedi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where was his lightsaber? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why was he here?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kark, he couldn’t have been more than twelve. Jango couldn’t force his hand to tighten on his blaster no matter that he’d thought that the last fumes of his honor had burned off in the spice years ago. “Walk away, kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The skin under the boy's seaglass blue eyes was bruised. He hadn’t slept in days, possibly before hostilities had really ignited. “I can’t do that, but feel free to find the door.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>kih’jetii </span>
  </em>
  <span>had clearly had a rough week, and considering he was trying to protect a target with an open contract in a kriffing warzone, Jango didn’t have any trouble understanding it. Still, something about the way the little shit forced his tones to firm up was almost enough to hide the tremble around the edges. It wasn’t a bad attempt at bravado and might fool anyone who wasn’t so familiar with humanoid body language. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The choice hung over Jango’s head like the humming blade the </span>
  <em>
    <span>ad</span>
  </em>
  <span> was missing, to pursue the contract (obvious, security, respect, reputation) or not (....) and even though he couldn’t come up with one good reason not to take the shot, he still found himself hesitating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kenobi, who -- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <span>kid </span>
  <span>flinched. “No, wait -- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango took the shot. If the kid - Kenobi - had been armed with his order’s traditional weapon, Jango had a feeling the result wouldn’t have been as cut and dry, but half of bounty hunting was accepting good luck, and the other half was dealing with bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <span>expression on the boy's face crumpled and he turned to the bureaucrat Jango had just put down. Yeah, there was no way even an ocean of bacta could patch the hole Jango had drilled through his skull. “Shiroon, Shi -- oh, oh, no -- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango firmed his grip a half second before the ad spun back, his own blaster half raised. “I don’t think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You killed him.” Those seaglass eyes burned, anger and passion burning off the brief panic, the fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango found he preferred it to the prior grief. “I did. My contract specified death as preferable, for his crimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy’s mouth trembled briefly. “There are two sides to every story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango tilted his head. “Maybe so, but philosophy doesn’t put food on the table, and this was a legitimate contract. Am I adding on hazard expenses for taking down a pint-sized Jedi? He isn’t alive to defend anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment -- a long moment -- those eyes closed. “Jedi don’t seek revenge, but I won’t let you desecrate his body.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span> -- oh.” Yeah, proof of death could get gristly on some contracts. Jango tapped his buy’ce. “Visual confirmation was the only request. No need to get messy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hand holding the blaster finally lowered from its half raised position. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango made a point of backing out of the room anyway, and even though the </span>
  <em>
    <span>kih’jetii</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t follow him, he found himself remembering the intensity of that gaze later, even when he tried to shove it off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a bad feeling he’d regret letting him survive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hoped we’d meet again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few years made a lot of difference at certain developmental stages, but Jango couldn’t claim the little Jedi had changed so much to justify getting the drop on him. The truth was, he was having a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fierfek </span>
  </em>
  <span>sort of day, so it only karking figured he’d top it off by running into a taller version of the Jedi he’d left on a backwater kriffspit planet three years ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango’s ribs ached from the battering he’d taken on his last contract and his skull would ache until he could get back to Slave 1 and apply bacta from the supposedly easy contract he’d taken to help offset the cost of healing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d have to be sure to thank Steerpczk for passing this contract his way -- though at this point, he could only imagine the coward had already fled when when things had gone tits up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I say, I leave an impression on people. Now, who are you, again?” Maybe the Jedi didn’t have his lightsaber again? Jango could hope. He’d have to get through this encounter to make sure he let Steerpczk know just what he thought of people who set him up for death to avoid paying off legitimate debts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, the idea of just killing the teenager -- even if he was <em>definitely</em> old enough to be in the field this time -- didn’t sit right with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi apprentice,” the kid murmured. Introducing himself? “And you’re Jango Fett, bounty hunter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango shifted, considering his options. “Always good to meet a fan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those eyes had somehow gotten bluer over the years, or memory had washed them out. “You certainly left an impression. I’ve already alerted my master to your presence. You won’t interrupt the Fluevog conference. ” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango paused. “I’m not here for the conference.” Those sharp blue eyes narrowed and Jango tilted his head at the gambling hall beside the community center. “I’m actually here to claim some vouchers owed to cover a debt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure.” Kenobi’s head tucked more intensely, shadows hollowing his cheekbones and emphasizing the deep dimple in his chin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango couldn’t deny that he respected the healthy skepticism. “I’m being honest, Jetii. I can prove it if you let me.” He gestured to his wrist where he could call up his current contract.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That cutglass jaw firmed and Jango felt fate lock its powerful jaws around his neck. “As though I would simple allow you to trigger anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fifteen minutes and an improbable escape by falling fifteen levels </span>
  <em>
    <span>after</span>
  </em>
  <span> the </span>
  <em>
    <span>kih’jetii </span>
  </em>
  <span> had shorted out his jetpack, Jango decided to call the night a wash. He could always come back later to collect the vouchers and he’d rather spend his time laying low from the Jedi tracking Steerpczk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And healing. (The little kark had gotten better.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next time Jango encountered the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jetii</span>
  </em>
  <span> was a whirlwind of images and sensations that had to have been half-hallucinations from the disease Garruck had managed to catch him with after Jango had swept the bounty from under his nose. It didn’t help that his system was basically cooking itself to clear the sickness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last clear thought Jango could remember before he succumbed to the potent cocktail of disease and his own immune system was that if he survived, Jango would be visiting Garruck next to discuss what waited for sore losers on open bounties. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The beginning wasn’t too bad: for the job, Jango had laired up in an abandoned clinic on the right side of the line in the city between slum and center. All of the portals were in tact and he had been able to establish a decent perimeter of trip wires to notify as well as traps to...well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The point was, Jango made it back to his temporary base, and even managed to inject himself with a nutrient cocktail that would hopefully help him survive the next two rotations before his brain began sliding around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>cyar’ika,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” his mother whispered, pressing a desperate kiss to his brow. “Wait for your moment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mandokarla.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You know what to do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, leaving him in the tall grass beside their pond, she’d broken, running like a coward to draw the attention of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>dar’manda</span>
  </em>
  <span> who would attack farmers in the field, giving Jango the break he needed to over take one of the three </span>
  <em>
    <span>hut'uun</span>
  </em>
  <span> who had opened fire on them with no warning, spinning him into the blaster fire of his friends even as he managed to find the angle he needed to jam his hand under his foe’s buy'ce to </span>
  <em>
    <span>squeeze</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twenty years removed, Garruck’s treachery returned the wet heat of the pond nearby and the green scent of crushed reeds mingling with the copper smell of blood from his father and sister.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango fought it, some cool blessing creeping into the corner of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>painangerheat </span>
  </em>
  <span>and reminding him that it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that this had </span>
  <em>
    <span>already happened</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the memory of a collapsing windpipe under his fingers faded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The relief was only partial: without focus, direction, Jango’s mind spun wildly to seek, understand, ensure his safety. There was no one else left, now, he could trust with the task.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something gentle smoothed tentatively along the edges of Jango’s paranoia and fear and Jango rolled, hands rising to grip a wrist and shoulder and finding no resistance, nothing that immediately screamed threat. The surge of adrenaline helped, briefly, but all he could grasp in the instant of clarity was </span>
  <em>
    <span>blue</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango tried to force his eyes to focus and searched for the threat, but the world around him was blurry and parts of it shifted, some things elongating while others shrunk. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Safe</span>
  </em>
  <span> something foreign and internal insisted, gently but inexorably. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango couldn’t remember how to speak, but he had to. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Safety was a lie</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He wasn’t safe, </span>
  <em>
    <span>they weren’t safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>maddening.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jango couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>think </span>
  </em>
  <span>like this. Would he always be </span>
  <em>
    <span>laandur</span>
  </em>
  <span> when it mattered? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Di'kutla </span>
  </em>
  <span>to protect the ones who mattered?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>sorrowquietcalm </span>
  </em>
  <span>trickled over his nerves with more certainty, banking the flames. </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango hadn’t been safe in over a decade, not since even the remnants of peace he’d found after the bloody grass had been stripped away. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>sorrow </span>
  </em>
  <span>only then, wholly, deep enough that Jango’s eyes stung with sympathetic tears, and then it seemed to be firmly set aside for </span>
  <em>
    <span>calmvigilance </span>
  </em>
  <span>to rise after a moment, and Jango…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango was very tired. (It seemed like he’d spent every hour after leaving the farm </span>
  <em>
    <span>so tired</span>
  </em>
  <span>.) He sank into the darkness and carried the ocean with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Jango returned to himself, uncertain how much time had passed and with the taste of death in his mouth, but somehow alive, he admitted that he may have miscalculated in retreating to his temporary base of operations to deal with a disease that very had very likely been modified by an irate bounty hunter to be even worse than its bog standard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found the holovid chip resting against his buy’ce leaning against the wall. It took him three hours to clear the building for explosives, another ten minutes to eat and visit the sonic to strip the sicksweat from his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Necessities taken care of, Jango considered the chip he’d been left. Its existence suggested his hallucinations may not have been entirely fabricated. The fact that he’d survived Garruck’s modified disease, and that he wasn’t dehydrated to the point of collapse or starving, supported the theory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whoever had left the chip had left Jango in a better state than he’d been in when they’d arrived. It didn’t make sense that they’d kill him after all of the trouble of nursing him through the worst of the sickness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Decision made, Jango inserted the chip into the burner datapad he’d brought on the job. There was only one file, which he made to tap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A person hovered over his ‘pad in miniature. A very familiar figure, one which had barely changed in the last two years beyond the length of the braid and the faint broadening of the shoulders. “Sithspit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Su cuy'gar, Jango Fett,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>the recording of Obi-Wan Kenobi started. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It karking figured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango made a point of keeping track of the idiot </span>
  <em>
    <span>jetii </span>
  </em>
  <span>who had somehow put him in the unenviable state of owing a debt. The knowledge that he owed his life to anyone, let alone a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jedi, </span>
  </em>
  <span>was deeply uncomfortable. (Though it didn’t trigger the anger or frustration it would have, once.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been a couple of years since their last run in, and he still occasionally woke up with a feeling of peace and ...connection, one foreign to him when conscious. Last night had been one such night and Jango didn’t know what to do with that, but it didn’t matter, frankly. His most recent job had wrapped up two days ago, the head of Hrxx Tildar on carbon in the miniature chamber he’d whipped up special for DOA jobs, but he’d been waiting on the monthly planetary dust typhoon to finish clearing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, if he never saw the dusty asshole that was Wobani again, he’d call himself content. The pisswater town, and he used the term loosely, that he’d tracked Tildar to was one of the only signs of civilization on the sithspit surface and that was only inhabited by the handful of lost souls that had retreated to try eeking out a living from the scrap pockets of helium that hadn’t been released into atmo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They weren’t welcoming of strangers in the first place (the people who made those sorts of decisions didn’t tend to) and that had been before Jango had blasted Tildar down in the street. Thankfully, the nature of his crimes spanning Republic space (the trafficking of endangered species) and Hutt Space (theft of goods) meant that Jango hadn’t needed to take anyone else out at the same time, but it hadn’t left any of them inclined to keep him company over the rotations as the dustcloud covering the planet roiled, cracking and reforming dangerously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d spent longer holed up in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Slave 1</span>
  </em>
  <span> but it didn’t make it easier. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>Transmission</em>
  <b>
    <em>: Wobani-wide emergency transmission. People of Wobani, the interference of duststorm designation GMRC-019671 has lost the majority of its force and is expected to dispel within the next five clicks. Pending datapackets from the wide ‘verse should be able to come in shortly, so prioritize accordingly. Transmission end.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango flicked his hand through the chess match he’d been working through and shifted to his console. If the planet’s inhabitants would be able to pick up datapackets, then there was no way the nominal head of operations hadn’t already started getting their own. Luckily, Jango had left a backdoor to use later after slicinig into their employment records tracking Tildar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a little luck, they hadn’t found the hole he’d exploited…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>Notification</em>
  <b>
    <em>: Updates pending: 9. Initiating download prioritization L3. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally. A few hours and Jango could be shedding radiation in atmo. Until then, he had plenty to catch up on. First thing was first: there weren’t any new updates on Montross. Fine. To the flagged guild updates….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the contracts he’d flagged to pick up if it was still open had been unofficially flagged and then claimed. The contract itself had been a temporary custody arrangement for a Tancrete chit who’s family had been receiving threats as they closed in on a business arrangement with a competitor. The flag that had logged two days after Jango had started on his recent hunt indicated there were unmentioned Hutt interests in play. He wasn’t too upset: bodyguard work was a nightmare, however lucrative it was or how many people he got to legally space in Republic territory, and that was before you added the Hutts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued. Another high yield contract he’d flagged for reference (details locked to applicants) had been withdrawn; a new blackout contract flagged for the payout - it was some sort of last one standing competition paying triple the normal rate of blackout assassinations...interesting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango flagged it and continued through the remaining Guild updates, then checked the skimmer he had in place to see who’d karked it over the last few weeks and who was still kicking. That done, he continued to the miscellaneous sourced items, the group of oddball articles or tickets, agendas, minutes, and other minutiae that might end up being important to Jango for one reason or another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, he found the public minutes from a recent Senate meeting, only flagged as medium priority due to its source, and not something that would appear in Jango’s list unless one of the keywords he’d specified showed up.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>Datapacket</em>
  <b>
    <em>: ….</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>Jedi</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em> have been asked to intercede in the matter of the missing Flince Heir as requested by the Trancret representative. Master Jin and Apprentice </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>Kenobi</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>, well known to this body, will surely have this matter resolved in a timely fashion.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Osik</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Jango pushed his head back into his headrest. “Of course they will -- if the kriffing Hutts don’t kill them first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango considered the dim atmosphere beyond his viewportal, light enough now to be truly a riot of clouds and soot from the duststorm as it cleared. Whatever destination he intended to input, he wouldn’t be able to fight the wind shear to break atmo for at least two clicks, and that would probably be rocky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drumming his fingers along the edge of his chair, Jango considered what he wanted: not to be in debt to a baby Jedi. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a couple of options: first, he could stay well out of this. If the Jedi didn’t know of the Hutt connections, they could go down on the mission. If Kenobi was dead, Jango couldn’t repay him, and as far as he knew, the Jedi had no family that could call in the debt. It wasn’t the most comfortable thought, but Jango had gotten used to disliking himself most of the time years ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But considering the possibility that the Jedi </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>know of the connection: they were less likely to be caught by surprise...they could still go down, but it wasn’t as likely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if they didn’t know, Jango considered what he recalled from the past meetings with Kenobi. The man had started as an acceptable fighter and only gotten better over the years. There was no guarantee that he’d go down even under a surprise attack -- in fact, considering some of the exploits Jango had read up on, keeping track of him, he wouldn’t be surprised if someone shot his ship down and he managed to walk it off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So: likely chance of survival, could probably still use help if they were carting around a </span>
  <em>
    <span>di’kut</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tancrete…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And at the end of everything, there was the simple fact that he had a debt to pay, and he wanted it done with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Decision made, Jango entered the coordinates and command to take off the minute the atmosphere would allow it. He’d just have to make sure not to be seen by any agents of the Hutts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two days later, Jango turned back for half an instant and considered the small group before him. Humming, he thumbed out his controls and then brought forward all of his </span>
  <em>
    <span>intent. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Jedi before him stiffened, though their hands didn’t tighten on the hilts of their weapons, to their credit. “I was never here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he jetted away, making sure to keep low along the abandoned ruins he’d finished demolishing no less than an hour prior, Jango left a smoking crater formed perfectly around a non-plussed Jedi master, an unconscious Tancrete, and a clearly confused Kenobi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango sadly cleared the footage from his internal storage. It had been some of his best work, and frankly, some of the stunts the little Jedi had pulled were incredibly interesting, but it didn’t do to have any evidence for the Hutts to find. He’d have to do with the memory of a man who could bend himself in half while deflecting multiple bolts back to their instigators with deadly precision using his lightsaber. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango figured he’d have to turn it over a few times in his bunk later to really grasp all of the implied...angles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nightclub thrummed from a combination of reckless sentients and intoxicants, legal or not. Jango was waiting on his contact for the one off bounty he was looking to pick up on the way to the blackout site on one of Bogden’s moons, since it was on his way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d clocked Kenobi automatically when he’d entered the dive dressed in dark pants and what looked like the undertunic of his traditional garb. His hair had grown out since the last time Jango had seen it in person and the tiny braid Jango had noticed before -- the mark of apprenticeship -- was tied back with the short tail. He’d considered and then discarded the idea that Kenobi was here on a mission early after the man’s second drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coincidentally, that was about the time he’d been approached by a human or humanoid with tanned skin and dark hair. If Jango had to make a guess from the man’s belt, boots, and blaster, he’d say the man was former law enforcement. That didn’t interest him nearly as much as his rough resemblance to Jango himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The longer he watched, the more bemused Jango became. The man was definitely trying to play up his threat and Kenobi was politely awed, but definitely not taken in. In fact, Jango couldn’t think of one reason he hadn’t shoved the </span>
  <em>
    <span>or'dinii</span>
  </em>
  <span> off, if he was right about this not being a job. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unless the resemblance to Jango himself was the attraction. Mouth curling faintly, Jango checked the time and huffed. His potential contractor was late -- he could wait for Jango to get a drink if he showed up now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd parted for Jango in the same way it had shifted for Kenobi upon entry: subconsciously, and without remark. Jango caught a few curious gazes on the way to the bar and winked for fun, laughing softly when the Miralian flushed a verdant hue and stumbled into his friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango marked his drink and tapped the bar when he was close enough, telling the droid his order without having to struggle to be heard over the din. Then he propped himself sideways against the bar and considered the waning interest and growing boredom on Kenobi’s face along the far side of the bar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment, Kenobi’s eyes drifted to meet Jango’s, clearly feeling the scrutiny. If Jango had doubted his thoughts on why Kenobi was entertaining the rough copy making eyes at him, they were squashed when Kenobi’s eyes widened and his cheeks flushed before all expression faded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smirking, Jango took the drink from the droid and tipped his head to the unlucky swain and cocked a brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenobi’s face remained unreadable for a moment -- the Jedi special, unflappable calm until you could force them to get energetic -- and then he lifted his own drink and glanced away, giving a sheepish expression from the slant of his brow and the slide of his gaze away and then back to Jango.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just then, Jango’s comm buzzed: </span>
  <em>
    <span>here, I’m here, are you still --</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jango tapped once to acknowledge and straightened. Kenobi’s expression smoothed over once more, and Jango deliberately looked him over, lingering on the loose, deep v below his throat and the fine cut of his bare shoulders and biceps, and then met surprisingly dark blue eyes with a regretful shake of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was a bit surprised to find that he actually meant it: from what he’d seen, he’d bet a fuck would be equally fun as a fight, with Kenobi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man’s flexibility </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone</span>
  </em>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Truly feeling the regret he’d expressed, Jango made his way back to the booth he’d reserved a little grumpier than before, and ready to take it out on the fool who’d been late to a meeting with one of the premier bounty hunters in the galaxy. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. +1 time all that eye contact paid off</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Day three prompt: Undercover</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The First of the First rang the bell signifying the end of the seventh course, the hum of conversation dipping briefly before resuming. The First Attending moved forward to clear the table of the settings and soiled plates and platters, leaving the surface bare for the eighth course while each of the guests’ personal Public Attendants moved forward bearing drinks to the House they served. </p><p>The Public Attendants themselves were marked officially as such by the plain X shaped harnesses and collars worn over their adorned body gloves, the color and decorations of which in turn denoted the House they served as well as their standing within that House. </p><p>Jango’s attention drifted to the Third House, as it had for three of the four days he’d been on this assignment. The complex negotiations required to move forward with relations on this planet were absurd, but as one of the only alternate sources for ionite outside of the Republic-regulated Bandomeer, enough need existed to create a tolerance to their local customs among offworld sects seeking regulation free access. </p><p>It was what had brought Jango here, acting as bodyguard to a Mid Rim official with an official interest in cultural curiosities, and an unofficial interest in processed ionite. He doubted his current contractor would be successful in his negotiations from his inability to control his expression, but Jango himself had already gotten the information he needed to skim some ionite for his own use. </p><p>Jango was willing to bet the surge in black market activity around ionite was also why the Jedi had sent an agent undercover, though why they’d chosen Kenobi of all the Jedi to send in was a bit of a mystery. He knew they wouldn’t have been able to alter the man’s face in such a way that would slip through the Ceremony of Purity, but why send Kenobi at all over one of their less famous representatives? (That was setting aside the question of how they’d managed to insert someone into a position to be brought along on the negotiations.)</p><p>That said, beyond Jango’s attention (which wasn’t obvious from behind the protection of his buy’ce) it did seem that Kenobi’s surprisingly effective effacement had been enough to allow his presence in the negotiations within the party of the Third House, perhaps in conjunction with the removal of the beard he’d sported in recent years on every image that floated around the holonet for those interested in news of the Senate-leashed Jedi Order.</p><p>Certainly, he looked younger without the neatly trimmed beard disguising the deep dimple at his chin or the cutglass line of his jaw, and the disguise was further aided by the close cropping of his hair in the fashion Attendants were expected to wear. </p><p>Jango supposed that he actually might not have recognized the hero of the Republic himself, if he hadn’t actually met him in roughly this same state those ten years prior. </p><p>Kenobi was very good though, for all that Jango doubted he had the time for much undercover work regularly with his frequent public work for the Senate: his casual submission seemed exactly as habitual as the lifetime Public Attendants operating on either side. </p><p>The thought had occurred to Jango the day prior to wonder if the man had cause to spend much time on his knees regularly. It had been a...stimulating night. Ever since running into the man in that dive bar and being forced to watch him leave with that poor copy, he’d found himself occasionally turning over the question of what Kenobi would be like in bed (or against a bulkhead, if Jango could get him alone before they had to leave).</p><p>That curiosity returned as he observed Kenobi kneeling a step behind his erstwhile bonder, tray lifted and head lowered. The bare curve of his cheek was visible but his collared throat and jaw were blocked by the firm jut of his bicep, and his forearm was equally as firm. He wasn’t as thickly muscled as some of his erstwhile peers kneeling at his side, but Jango could only imagine the work that had gone into his form, both in the field and from his work with his Jetii'kad.</p><p>Jango found his functional corded muscle far more attractive than the decorative bulk of the almost universally useless eye candy that had been otherwise called to Attend the Houses during the negotiations. Maybe...he could afford a little flexibility of his own, considering the arrangements for the ionite had been finalized the night prior. </p><p>He decided to see what ground he could gain that night answering the question of the Jedi’s purpose in the negotiations, or the more personal question of the man’s tastes. </p><p>Hell, even if it ended in a fight, Jango would call himself satisfied. </p><p>~</p><p>Jango hadn’t removed his armor and didn’t feel guilty. It made it easier to focus on the spitting serpent he had pinned to the wall in the west Attendant corridor without giving into the distraction currently making his codpiece far less comfortable than it usually was. </p><p>“Hush, cyar’ika,” he muttered quietly, shifting his thigh higher between Kenobi’s. “I don’t want to break your cover but if someone comes out to investigate, you’ll have a fine song to sell keeping it.”</p><p>Jango had tracked his path following dinner, ducking into a room here and there, before making a prediction and managing to cut him off successfully. He hadn’t quite surprised him, but from the hasty defense, the ka’ra had barely whispered of his presence before Jango had caught him around a corner and pinned him face first. </p><p>At his words, Kenobi stilled, chest flush to the wall and his head turned sideways to meet Jango’s gaze through his buy’ce. His eyes contained all of the warmth of the frozen sea on Hoth, and were just as beautiful. After a moment, he was sad to see, they closed and Kenobi took a breath. When he looked once more, he appeared to have mastered his instinctive battle rage. Jango didn’t doubt he’d be ready to fight in an instant, and well, but something in him recognized Jango enough to blunt the first lethal response to the ambush after pausing long enough to recognize him.</p><p>Well, that was...kind of cute, to be honest. And useful. Jango hummed thoughtfully and squeezed Kenobi’s wrist warningly to remind him he had it in a gauntlet-aided grip that could easily go from playful to crushing, then shifted so he could tug his buy’ce off. </p><p>Kenobi didn’t move beyond the tension Jango could see tightening his shoulders and neck but his eyes were trained firmly on Jango when he cleared the edge of his buy’ce. He tucked it under his arm without looking away and let the silence stretch. </p><p>After a long moment, Kenobi sighed. Some of the tension he was holding drained away and his mouth quirked up. “And how may I Attend, sir guard?”</p><p>The little shit was flirting with him. Manda preserve and watch him, Jango might truly be in danger of falling in love if Kenobi intended to keep this up. Well, he’d been as interested in a fuck as much as a fight, and there was still the chance he could sweeten Kenobi around to revealing his purpose between the sheets. “I seem to have lost something.”</p><p>“Oh?” Kenobi’s eyes flicked down to Jango’s mouth and back up, tongue flashing out to moisten his own lips. “And what have you misplaced, sir?”</p><p>“My bed, Attendant.” Jango pressed his thumb lightly into Kenobi’s wrist in a gentle massage, and then carefully released his grip and stepped back, observing Kenobi carefully. If Kenobi wasn’t of a mind to fight, Jango would be happy to show him the good time he’d been seeking at that bar. “Would you have any suggestions?”</p><p>Kenobi carefully turned against the wall, still leaning into it. He met Jango’s gaze thoughtfully and Jango realized that while his irises were primarily blue, there was a faint ring of green just barely visible as filaments close to the pupils. “I’m afraid I don’t know where the Honored Offworld Representative has been given rooms...but I’m sure we can figure something out.”</p><p>Jango smirked. “I knew I had a good feeling about you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>holy shit they touched??? my victorian auntie would be scandalized</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've been trying to get back into the groove with writing and so I started with fandoms I hadn't ever written in! Makes sense, right? Please forgive my stumbles and feel free to point out if I goofed anywhere. Thanks!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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